A Complicated Affair
by PaperPrince
Summary: The story of how Mycroft ends up with a bratty genius of a Sherlock for a son...
1. Chapter 1

It is an unusually sunny morning, one Mycroft has decided best spent outdoors revising for the oncoming exams. He is on route to the garden, school books in hand, lost in his head as usual when he accidentally bumps into something.

Apologising automatically he discovers that for once the manor isn't empty. For some reason there is a girl-just-turned-woman exploring freely. Offering her his hand to help her up he begins to mumble an apology, his cheeks pink with embarrassment.

Once they are both upright again, Mycroft expects her to yell at him. Instead she nods at him, smooth's her plum dress that judging by the slightly frayed hem was several years old. That done she waves a hand over to the painting she had been examining, drawing them both over to it.

"This is a fake. I hope you realise. The paint work is quite awful for a supposedly world renowned artist… see these spots here, here and here where the brush work is clumsy… And those parts are the wrong colour… Not to mention they've rushed and forgotten to add the flowers in the background… That horse has been added later and the signature at the bottom is shaky at best, I'm sure a ten year old could fake a stomach ache better than this rubbish…" The stranger tells him pointing out another dozen or so reasons why the portrait closest to them is clearly a forgery, smiling brightly at him as she does so.

He's so caught up in whirl of her words it takes some time for Mycroft to notice anything besides her pretty yet incessant mouth. When he does so he finds himself quite taken with her dark flowing shoulder length curls and bright curious eyes.

"Mycroft Holmes. That was brilliant. I must confess I'd never noticed before you brought it up." He ends up blurting during the first pause he finds.

She blinks, so wrapped up in the painting that it takes her a few moments to understand what he has said.

"Violet." She says with a smile folding her hands in front of herself and touching them to her lip." I was just about to take a walk in your lovely gardens. Would you-"

"- I'll be delighted." He replies before she can finish her sentence.

"Marvellous. " She replies linking arms with him.

For a moment Mycroft forgets to how to breathe. Coming to his senses quickly though he leads her down the corridor his studying forgotten along with the books now lying on the floor.

They spend the most pleasant few hours of their existence together looking at the flowers and quietly talking. During that time Mycroft learns a great number of things about his wondrous angel, he learns about her passion for art and knowledge, and that she is accompanying her father who has important business to discuss with his and that they may be staying for a while. She in turn takes a fierce interest in him deducing all sorts of things about his interests and plans, which is unusual as next to no one ever takes notice of him. What is even more unusual is that she likes what she finds.

The flowers seem particularly nice that day he remembers noting as she teaches him how to deduce, explaining how muddy foot prints tell her that the gardener smokes pot in the shed and has a difficult relationship with his mother.

The warmth of her hand in his as they walk down to the lake is pleasant. Once there beneath the large old willow tree he finds the soft, gentle press of her lips on his is even better despite their bumping of noses. "Was that good?" She asks quietly as she pulls away a few moments later, wiping away the red of her lipstick from his lips as she does so.

"Exquisite." He replies leaning over to kiss her again. Taking her hand as he does so.


	2. Chapter 2

Later Mycroft remembers this morning and wonders which is worse. That he met her first or that his father met her at all.

It is on their walk back to the manor for lunch that his father, Siger first spots her from the window. He is on the verge of ruining her family, he is thirty years her senior, old, ugly, unfit and according to his last wife impotent, but despite all this it only takes one look for him to want her with a passion. The foolish greedy sort of desire men his age have for youthful beauty. At eighteen she has plenty of both.

Logically it shouldn't go any further than an old man's dirty thoughts. However his father is insistent and her father desperate for money to save his business and himself from ruin. Unbeknownst to their children they spend the next few days arranging a laughable marriage over coffee and cigarettes.

* * *

It isn't until the large ornate ring is presented to her after dinner one evening that Violet realises that Holmes senior is interested in her. Given that in all the time she has spent at the manor they have seen each other only a handful of times and spoken even less it is not unsurprising that the proposal shocks them all.

"I cannot wear jewellery. I'm allergic." She tells Mr Holmes her eyes fixed on the ring presented to her, staring at it as if it were some sort of bomb about to blow up in her face. From where he stands, a mere spectator in it all, Mycroft notes she looks quite green at the idea.

"I will get you something else then, something expensive. Just name it." His father tells her reaching for his drink.

"Money does not matter to me. And I cannot accept. I do not love you." She tells him solemnly, folding her hands in her lap, to which he laughs.

"That does not matter my dear. You will still marry me. Your father's business depends on it." Siger replies downing his drink unconcerned with her opinion on the matter.

She slaps him then and storms out of the room slamming the door behind her.

Mycroft finds her later in the garden sitting by the fountain. He sits down beside her and draws her into his arms.

"You could refuse you know." He tells her pressing a kiss into her hair.

She sighs into his chest. "He'll ruin my father if I do."

"I suppose there's no point in saying -let's runaway together."

She smiles at him sadly. "If you weren't only fifteen I would." She tells him, wordlessly imploring him not to throw his life away for her sake. You're going to be a government something or other after all and change the world her eyes say as she blinks away the tears. "No I do not like this but I must do it. Just promise me you will not hate me for it. I could not bear that." She says her fingers tapping his chest at the spot where his heart rests.


	3. Chapter 3

p dir="ltr"The wedding happens far too soon for their liking. A garish formal affair that had been hastily arranged to show off his father's wealth more than anything./p  
p dir="ltr"Violet's mother sits in the front row dressed in a mournful black away from her husband. She does not approve of the marriage but according to Violet is too weak willed to prevent it./p  
p dir="ltr"As Violet moves up the isle towards the registrar her mother stops her and takes her hand squeezing it tightly. From where he sits Mycroft can barely make out her voice but is almost certain the older woman says "You will wish yourself dead dear" as she gazes sadly at her teenage daughter dressed in an expensive and ill tasteful designer scarlet dress./p  
p dir="ltr"Violet makes no promises on her wedding day and does not smile, not even when Siger drops his ring by accident./p  
p dir="ltr"Mycroft sits at the back of the room, his eyes focused on the wedding dress and the beautiful woman in it as he watches the small charade of a ceremony. He sits there and cannot help contemplating how much easier this would be to watch if he hated her or felt nothing at all. Instead his heart rips to pieces as he decides caring is not an advantage./p  
p dir="ltr"His hands curl into tight fists atop his thighs, as he keeps his face guardedly neutral as he watches his father marry the woman he loves./p 


	4. Chapter 4

Alone at the children's table in the corner of the hall Mycroft spends twenty minutes if that watching the young bride being pinched and cooed over by thin ladies in pastel coloured dresses. Mycroft sits there feeling useless with the crayons he's been provided with to keep himself entertained like some five year old. If he were to have rescued her he should have acted sooner. Regret fills his stomach as he gazes at her unhappy face as she prepares to toss the bouquet.

She gives it a good toss and flings the flowers right up into the air and straight into the expensive ice sculpture of her new husband. Wham! Goes the icy head that is effectively now beheaded. At this the ladies crowded round Violet flee like startled birds, birds that recoup at the bar for a stiff drink. Violet smirks and shrugs her shoulders.

"Ooops." She giggles twirling her skirt in Mycroft's direction or so he thinks. It's difficult to tell over the live band drunkenly singing their way through ancient pop songs.

Her crowd gone and her husband busy talking business with some foreign nationals Violet steals an opened bottle of champagne. Only Mycroft notices because he cannot bear to take his eyes off her.

Violet approaches her hair bun falling apart messily, scattering hair slides as she moves. She flops down next to him in her puffy dress and hands him the wine.

"I think that wine was more expensive than me." She complains kicking off her heels before pulling him down under the overly large table.

Mycroft frowns as he sits in their new secret hideaway beneath thick white table linen.

"What are we doing?" He whispers confused as she takes the bottle and downs some quickly.

"Mourning in style dearest." She replies kissing him.

He pulls away reluctantly. "We can't not here." He sighs. "It's your wedding day."

Violet frowns drawing Mycroft's attention up to her smudged eyeliner. "Weddings are stupid." She says wrapping her arms tightly around him. She rests her head against his shoulder. "In my heart I belong to you, you know."


	5. Chapter 5

Towards the end of the reception Mr Holmes disappears off to finalise some important business, leaving Mycroft to show his new stepmother the house.

He is instructed to take the large limo meant for the newlywed's home but Violet insists they take her blue mini instead, persuading him with a few secret kisses. Unable to resist the charming bride Mycroft tells the driver to take his aunts home instead.

Their transport sorted Violet decides she needs out of her breath restricting dress of pain. She makes him wait outside the car as she transforms herself from a puppet in a real girl. Mycroft cannot help but notice how much happier she seems in her knee length lemon coloured dress, as she teasingly scolds him for peaking.

They get inside the car and head off just as it begins to rain heavily.

"The other night, I dreamed you held me in your arms. " Violet tells him her eyes focused on the wet road. "When I awoke, I cried. Reality is cruel sometimes."

Mycroft's voice catches in his throat unsure how to reply.

"Please come to my room tonight. I'm in the old nursery." She asks biting her lip. "I'm afraid your father will try something." She adds, reminding Mycroft that she is almost as young as he is.

"Of course." He replies wishing there was more he could do.


	6. Chapter 6

Mycroft had thought of murdering his father before, mostly as a way to kill boring Sunday afternoons but now it was something he thought of constantly.

He thinks of it as he watches his father insult Violets outfit over the breakfast table. He thinks of it as his father drags her out to yet another show or party, Violet dangling on his arm like an expensive watch bought for show.

He thinks about how to do it without being caught. He thinks about burning the house down and driving off with Violet in her mini.

He thinks about it as he listens to them fight, as Violet loudly refuses to let his father touch her.  
He thinks about grabbing a knife and doing it anyway damn the consequences.

But most of all he thinks about how much of a coward he is as he calls her nightly from his dorm.

He pictures her smile every time she answers the phone and tries not to picture her lovely face covered in bruises.

Somehow they both make it all the way to the summer holidays with Mycroft still thinking about it.

Violet sits in the courtyard her art book out and her fingers covered in charcoal as she sketches her beloved stepson. "He took me to a therapist you know. Told them I had some sort of mental disorder and phobia of men." She tells him breaking the peaceful silence.

Her words jolt Mycroft out of his pose and he trips over the statue he'd been leaning against. "What happened?" He asked shocked.

She shrugged. "She asked me what it was that drew me to my husband in the first place."

"What did you say?" Mycroft asks coming over to sit next to her.

"I told her I was just a sacrificial pawn, an unimportant character of a larger game of chess." Violet replies smiling down at her art then back up at Mycroft and closing her book. "She needed me to explain more so I did. She was very kind when she knew the whole story." She sighed and sat up.

"I've a new therapist now. A proper one apparently." She says making hand gestures. "He's American and not very nice at all. I've been making up stories to tell him during our sessions. I have no idea what that bastard husband of mine told him as no matter how ridiculous my stories sound he believes me. He thinks we're making a lot of progress with my horse obsession." She says leaning close and running her messy hands through Mycroft's hair giggling slightly as she does so.

Mycroft welcomes her touch and steals a kiss from Violet. "I don't think you're mad if it helps."

She beams at him. "Thank you." She says softly. "I don't think you're mad either." She says kissing him again. "Come on. It's far too hot for all this sitting around. Let's go jump in the pool. I want to make the most of our time while hubby's away skiing."


	7. Chapter 7

His father's butler catches them kissing in the conservatory.

He calls violet a several nasty names and drops an antique tea set to the ground where it smashes sending hot tea and china fragments everywhere. "How could you cheat on your Master? How dare you- you slut!" He snarls outraged by her infidelity.

Violet laughs at his words. "How could I fall for a boy my age you mean?" Violet retorts pulling Mycroft up out of his chair and pushing him into the garden. "Very easily." She replies calmly. "Now clean that up Augustus. Tell anyone and I'll have the cost of that tea set coming out of your wages." She snaps closing the door behind them.

Mycroft shakes with worry as she takes his hand and leads him down to the fountain. "I'm sure most of the staff know already." She says humming a pop song she'd heard on the radio. "The maids' incessant spying is far from indiscreet." She says kissing his cheek. "It makes me so glad you write me love letters in french. They can barely translate Bonjour let alone Je t'aime mon chéri… " Blushing Mycroft kisses her before she can repeat anymore of what he had written. She curls a hand around his neck and tells him not to worry in between kisses.

"The worst that can happen is divorce." She says happily lying on the grass in her sunflower print sundress.

* * *

Augustus interrupts them not an hour later, his face stern and cold. "The telephone rang. It's important." He says turning to go back into the house before they can reply.

Mycroft bites his lip as Violet follows along behind him. A list of scenarios run through his head none of them good. He thinks about his school fees being cut off and how he'd struggle to afford his last few terms even with a scholarship. He thinks of Violet being sent away. He thinks of himself being sent away perhaps to live with one of his aged aunts who's cramped house smells of old cats. He thinks of the scandal should it make the papers.

He picks up the phone with shaking hands expecting his father's cruel voice yelling at him. Instead he is greeted by the quiet sad voice of his father's assistant.

"There was an accident on the slopes. You're father's dead."

Mycroft drops the phone in numb surprise.


	8. Chapter 8

The hours following his father's death are confusing to say the least. Mycroft is relieved and yet a little upset and he cannot stop kissing his widowed stepmother in the quiet corner of the library they have retreated to. To feel so many emotions is confusing and overwhelming but upon reflection so was his relationship with his father. He finds he is saddened by the loss but only slightly, finding it difficult to grieve a man who was a father in name only.

Death has been but a stranger to Mycroft until now. Yet in a way he was already used to people leaving. He recalls lonely childhood filled with various governesses and tutors most of who were stupid and dull and fired before Mycroft could be bothered to learn their names. He remembers staff that didn't last and missing silverware. And finally his father's wives and mistresses coming and going as they fell out with his father, most of whom were uninterested in playing mother anyway.

Violet lets him rest his head on her lap and says nothing, simply stroking his hair as he rests on her skirt. Mycroft closes his eyes and is reminded of a misty memory, a half imagined happy dream of his poor long dead mother before she was lost to her depression. He sobers suddenly aware that he is alone now, parentless, no longer a child but a man.

He sits up and takes Violet's hand in his and she smiles at him fondly. She is happy about his father's death, Mycroft knows it, he can see in in the brightness that is suddenly returned to her pale face. He should hate it but he cannot blame her. After all he is secretly pleased she is free now.

He kisses her hand softly and hopes that now they may have a chance for a future together.

* * *

That night Mycroft dreams of a song bird soaring up into bright blue clouds after years of alone in the darkness. It finds another and they fly off together happily. It is such a sweet dream Mycroft realises it must not be real. He wakes and to his surprise he finds Violet curled up beside him. Mycroft smiles fondly at his bed invader. "Sleep well little dove." he thinks sleepily, brushing a hand through her long hair and drifting slowly back to sleep.

* * *

His father's now out of work secretary quickly arranges the funeral, and offers a few scant words of comfort. She does not ask for Mycroft's input in the arrangements and he is glad.

The newspapers do not make headlines of his father's death but then truly influential people never do, mentioned instead on the fourth page with a small picture. Violet does not feature but Mycroft does, the heir apparent to the Holmes fortune.

Mycroft quickly finds he dislikes the attention the funeral brings him as he is unsubtly questioned by countless acquaintances over the state of his father's finances, all of them hoping for a piece of his multimillion pie. It is fortunate that Violet sicks closely to him and wards them off as best she can.

They stand together supporting each other arm in arm, and dressed in black and watch the coffin being laid to rest. Neither of them are truly sad to see him go, for now their lives should be much simpler. Amongst the crowd of his father mourners they are not alone in their feeling although they manage to hide their feelings better than the overacting thin aging beauties that dab at dry eyes with grubby handkerchiefs. The rain comes down half way through and that makes it easier to hide their lack of tears.


	9. Chapter 9

The day does not end quickly enough for Mycroft. He is exhausted, his back stiff from standing and his throat sore from the endless dull talk he'd been forced to endure.

He retreats to his room near midnight when the last of the grubby money hungry fiends have gone. Violet goes with him for now there is no one left to care, the remaining staff having skipped out to the nearest pub in order to celebrate their newly unemployed status.

Mycroft sinks into his grey high backed armchair. The will reading had been the worst part, he decides mulling the events of the day over, recalling how long it had taken to go through everything and the fight there had been over properties. His third stepmother, the American one, had of course taken all the best houses and left Violet with the unfashionable small seaside cottage.

He picked at the cold chicken sandwich Violet had made for him and tries to picture all his new wealth. He finds he cannot, without feeling guilty, he has done nothing for it after all. He takes a bite of the sandwich despite his lack of appetite. It is good. He munches on and looks sadly at his stomach. Clearly Violet will not help his diet.

"It's just a sandwich, stop looking so guilty My." She says pouring him a cup of tea. Violet leans in close and kisses his ear. "I used low fat mayo dear." She informs wiping a crumb from his cheek and smiling.

Mycroft relaxes and finishes the sandwich happily deciding that he will at the very least use his money more wisely than his father.

Violet creeps forward and settles into his lap like a cat, claiming the space as her own without asking for permission, sitting sideways across him and curling her legs up beneath her dress. Mycroft stares at her pale legs peeking out from the long folds of her dress and realises that at some point she has removed her stockings. Violet catches him looking and pulls her dress up to show him ten wiggling toes. Mycroft smiles a little and thinks quietly to himself, "Those are the loveliest toes in the world."

Violet smiles at him, resting her head on his chest. "Will you miss this place?" She asks reminding him that they have to leave the house so it can be sold. Mycroft shakes his head, he has spent more time in boarding halls than here to really call this house a home. There was no warmth in it, no love until Violet came. He pulls her close and tells her so. Her cheeks flush red like rose petals.

"You are so very lovely." She sighs, with a look in her eyes that tells him he is much loved. It is the sort of look that makes him sorry he has to return to boarding school for a final year.

Mycroft's hands move to her shoulders and hold her still as he claims her lips. "You are lovelier still my queen." He says worshipping her mouth with his own. She tips her head up to meet his kiss greedy for his touch.

She moves in his arms, trying to free her bent legs and slips from his lap, tumbling onto the floor with a surprised laugh. She picks herself up quickly and smiles at him, ignoring her rumpled dress.

"I think we'd be more comfortable on your bed." She says bravely, aware he would never rush her. Violet takes his hand and leads him from the chair to his bed. It is a large bed, old and sturdy with crisp white sheets that are soft to the touch. She smiles nervously at him as he settle on the end of the bed. He smiles back just as nervously.

Neither of them say anything as she takes off her dress, but both of them are aware, have silently agreed to share their final night together fully. She slides her dress down slowly, shyly and does not meet his eyes. She puts a hand over her stomach as if self-conscious of its slight roundness.

Mycroft cannot imagine what she has to be shy about, for she is beautiful in her simple biscuit coloured lingerie, with her soft young curves and flawless skin. Mycroft wants to pull her close and kiss away her nerves, and have her kiss away his. But he is still wearing far too many layers for that to be fair. He undoes his shirt, slowly, anxiously, giving her time to change her mind. He stands up to remove his trousers, kicking them away as they pool around his ankles.

He moves to pull down his boxer shorts but is stopped by Violets blush. He takes her hand and squeezes it gently, letting her know it is okay for them to stop. She rests her head against his shoulder.

"Turn out the light first please." She whispers. He leans down and kisses her cheek softly and complies.

It is a lot easier they find, to explore each other fully beneath the covers in the dark.


End file.
